The Coming of Light

Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

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2 comments

I like the Mark Strand poem – and I am also a candle lover. Lighting a candle is a lovely way of remembering people. I often do especially in churches and cathedrals anywhere I visit. I hope you enjoyed your candlelit supper – and you have Indian candlesticks – well they look a little like the ones I have from India. Thanks for sharing Candlemas.

It was a delight to see your candlesticks and the table. The poem is breathtaking. You chose a Canadian poet. ( How does he do that? )Thanks so much for following- through. Left my candle to burn out by the rain spattered window!